


I Legami D'Amore

by Srin



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srin/pseuds/Srin
Summary: It’s not as though he doesn’tknowthat Nicolò trusts him, but knowing it as an everyday if undeniable fact – the sea is wet, the sun rises in the east, Nicolò and Yusuf love and trust one another – is a different thing to feeling it in the steady thump of Nicolò’s heart under his hands._Or, Yusuf gets An Idea, and then porn happens.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 250





	I Legami D'Amore

**Author's Note:**

> Set at some unspecified point in The Past, when they've been together for a while but some things are still new.
> 
> The title is Italian for 'The Bonds of Love' because it's okay to be extremely cheesy if it's in Italian, right?

It started in Alexandria, when Yusuf and Nicolò strolled confidently into what had been a pleasant, otherwise unremarkable inn the last time they visited the city. Apparently, at some point in the intervening years, it had changed from straightforward travellers’ accommodation to a brothel. A rather classy brothel, too; the main room that had been the dining hall previously was now tastefully decorated and filled with lavish couches and plush floor cushions, with a group of musicians playing in one corner and the scent of fruit and spices in the air, rather than the mix of cheap scent, sweat, and sex musk more common to such establishments. The clients who were dressed at all were dressed well, while the women were draped in elaborate costumes made of tiny, filmy scraps of extremely fine silk and linen, the sort of thing that somehow contrived to look more indecent than simple nudity and definitely cost several times what one would pay for a normal suit of clothes involving considerably larger quantities of fabric.

But what really caught Yusuf’s eye wasn’t the furniture or the textiles or the women, it was one of the clients. He was shirtless, stood up against a supporting post to one side of the room, his arms above his head, wrists tied together with a silk rope looped through a metal ring attached to the post. One of the women was teasing his chest with an ostrich feather and another was standing on a stool, trailing kisses along his arm, and the man’s erection was clearly visible through his trousers but his face, his face was quite possibly the most peaceful, satisfied thing Yusuf had ever seen.

Nicolò, unfazed by any of it, went straight to the woman who was wearing the most clothing and was therefore presumably in charge, to apologize for the intrusion and ask if she could suggest a regular lodging house. But Yusuf could not stop staring at the man bound to the post. There was something about him, something about the line of his nose perhaps, or the breadth of his shoulders, that reminded Yusuf a little of Nicolò, though in all their time together he did not think he had ever seen Nicolò look quite that _relaxed_.

“There is a place two streets over,” Nicolò told him, and then added, amused, “Unless you prefer to stay here after all?”

“No, no, let’s go,” Yusuf said, dragging his gaze away from the bound man. “We couldn’t afford this place anyway, even if I had suddenly developed a taste for professional women in extremely expensive silk handkerchiefs, which I assure you I have not.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” Nicolò told him dryly, and they left.

But Yusuf did not forget about the man at the post. Or, perhaps more accurately, he forgot all about the man himself, but he did not forget the look of utter bliss on his face. That night, lying in bed with Nicolò in his arms, Yusuf could not help but picture Nicolò with _his_ hands tied above his head, with such a look on _his_ face. Not against a post in the middle of a space like that one, no, he would never want Nicolò so exposed in a public place, but in a bed, in a room of their own, where no one would disturb them? The idea captured his imagination in a way he could not really explain but could not let go of either. Not that he needed to explain it, because he certainly wasn’t going to go and _tell_ Nicolò he suddenly wanted very badly to tie him up. They had plenty of excellent bondage-free sex whenever the opportunity presented itself, he wasn’t about to go and make things weird with this strange little fantasy.

Well. He didn’t _intend_ to tell Nicolò about it. But the image stuck in Yusuf’s mind, haunting his thoughts over the next weeks and months, and his beloved was a perceptive man.

“Will you tell me what is bothering you?” Nicolò finally asked him. They were in Cairo then, in a private rented room, sharing a bowl of grapes.

“What do you mean?” Yusuf asked innocently.

“You have been preoccupied lately,” Nicolò told him. “You get this look on your face sometimes, as though you are thinking – I don’t know what you could be thinking. But then you seem as though you’re almost … ashamed of yourself. I didn’t want to press, if you don’t want to talk about it, but it has been going on for some time now and…”

“I want to tie you up,” Yusuf blurted, mouth operating entirely independently of his brain, and then his mortified brain caught up and he immediately contemplated throwing himself out the window. No, it wouldn’t do any good, they were only one floor up and even if he did manage to break his neck, it wouldn’t take and besides, Nicolò would be very upset with him. Nicolò did not look upset with him now, though, nor did he seem disgusted or appalled, as Yusuf feared, or intrigued, as Yusuf maybe secretly hoped. He just looked very, very confused.

“…I see,” Nicolò said, in that way that meant he definitely did not. And, okay, fair, the last time they had actually _discussed_ bondage in any capacity, it was last week, regarding the pair of thieves they had caught attempting to rob an orphanage, whom they had tied hand and foot before leaving them in the street for the local authorities to deal with. Not exactly an obvious leap from the apprehending of heartless criminals to sex games.

“In bed,” Yusuf added.

“Oh,” Nicolò said, giving nothing away, and Yusuf contemplated the window again, but then Nicolò gave a little nod and added, “Alright.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” Nicolò asked, as casual as though Yusuf had suggested trying a new blend of tea or taking a different route to their favourite bathhouse. “I have never done anything like that, so I cannot promise that I will want to do it more than once, but I’m happy to try it and see.”

“Have I told you recently that I adore you?” Yusuf asked, feeling like the world’s luckiest idiot. Nicolò smirked at him.

“How are we defining ‘recently’ for purposes of this question?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter, if you have to ask I clearly haven’t said it recently enough, my heart, my-”

“I adore you, too,” Nicolò interrupted, smirk softening into a fond smile, and reached across the table to squeeze Yusuf’s hand.

And that is how they got here, Nicolò splayed out naked on their bed, his arms above his head, with Yusuf’s sash wound around his wrists and tied to the slats of the headboard. They both know he could free himself easily if he wanted to, just as they know that he won’t, not unless there is some sort of emergency or they both agree the game is done. Yusuf, also naked, is kneeling beside him on the bed, admiring his handiwork.

“Well well well, what am I going to do with you, hmm, now I have you at my mercy?” Yusuf asks, and he’s kidding, but Nicolò looks him straight in the eye, completely serious, and says,

“Anything you like, my love.”

And that should be hot, or at least reassuring, but instead it makes Yusuf panic a bit, and realise that he has not thought this through; for all his fantasizing about this very thing, he never really got past the image of Nicolò spread out for him, Nicolò with his hands bound, Nicolò the picture of bliss, to working out what exactly he was going to do to achieve that last part.

“You don’t know what I want to do,” Yusuf points out, feeling a little ridiculous. “I’m not sure _I_ know what I want to do. Maybe this was a bad-”

“Yusuf, look at me,” Nicolò tells him, firm, undeniable, and maybe _he’s_ the one who should be taking charge here. “If you do something I do not like, I will tell you, but I very much doubt that you will.”

“How can you _know_ that when I don’t even know that?” Yusuf asks, cringing at the slightly hysterical edge he can hear in his own voice.

“Because I love you,” Nicolò says. “And you love me, and we are here to give each other pleasure, just like every other time we have gone to bed together. You have never been anything but wonderful to me when we make love and I am certain that you are not going to turn into some sort of monster just because I let you tie my wrists to the headboard.”

“I love you,” Yusuf says, helpless.

“I know you do,” Nicolò says, and it could have been smug but it isn’t at all, just sweet and earnest, and that _is_ reassuring; Yusuf’s anxiety subsides, swept aside by a much more welcome swell of affection. He leans down to kiss Nicolò, kisses his mouth and then down his neck, along his chest and shoulder, and Nicolò hums contentedly, eyes closed, body relaxed, and this doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Yusuf sits up, and brushes his fingers along the delicate skin of Nicolò’s inner arm. Normally if he does this Nicolò will twitch away after a moment and drag Yusuf into a kiss, or a tighter embrace, or something of the sort, but Yusuf is confident that Nicolò doesn’t actually dislike the sensation; on the rare occasion that they have tried something he really doesn’t enjoy, he hasn’t been shy about saying so. So Yusuf keeps doing it, trailing his fingers in mindless patterns over the inside of Nicolò’s forearm and bicep, and Nicolò does twitch as usual, but now his bound wrists keep him from going anywhere. He doesn’t tell Yusuf to stop, and after a minute he moves again, not so much a twitch this time as a full-body shiver, and his half-hard cock jerks and fills out a little more.

Pleased, Yusuf lingers over Nicolò’s arm for a while, enjoying the softness of Nicolò’s skin and the way he can see Nicolò’s muscles jump when he shudders, and then works his way down to Nicolò’s chest, avoiding the ticklish part of his underarm. He keeps on with the same careful caresses, sweeping his fingertips in light, delicate strokes and whorls along Nicolò’s collarbones and around and between his nipples. He hasn’t touched Nicolò’s nipples themselves yet but they have gone tight and stiff anyway, and his cock is fully hard now too, and it sends a jolt of heat to Yusuf’s own groin, to see that he can get Nicolò so aroused without even focussing on his most sensitive places.

There is something thrilling, too, now that he has gotten over his nerves, about Nicolò giving himself over so readily, so serenely, to whatever Yusuf might want to do with him. It’s not as though he doesn’t _know_ that Nicolò trusts him, but knowing it as an everyday if undeniable fact – the sea is wet, the sun rises in the east, Nicolò and Yusuf love and trust one another – is a different thing to feeling it in the steady thump of Nicolò’s heart under his hands, in the way that Nicolò, who will in other circumstances snap to alertness at the slightest creak of a floorboard, doesn’t even startle when Yusuf lifts his fingers in one place and brings them back somewhere else. Nicolò with his hands bound and his eyes closed, naked and vulnerable, is as calm and comfortable in Yusuf’s care as he might be fully dressed, sword at his hip, sipping tea in some friend’s garden, and that is –

Overwhelmed, Yusuf moves to straddle Nicolò’s waist, and hunches over to kiss him again, dipping his tongue past Nicolò’s sweetly yielding lips to taste his soft moan. That moan and the kiss both turn a little more heated, a little more urgent when Yusuf shifts so his backside rubs against the hot length of Nicolò’s cock. He feels Nicolò’s arms tense against their bonds then, like he tried to reach for Yusuf and forgot that he can’t, and Yusuf smiles into the kiss and slides one hand up to twine his fingers with Nicolò’s.

“Easy, love, I’ve got you,” Yusuf murmurs, and Nicolò grasps at his fingers and relaxes again, letting Yusuf kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until they are both breathless. Yusuf sits up, admiring Nicolò’s swollen lips and his cheeks rubbed pink by Yusuf’s beard before the evidence fades, and he has to get a hand around his own cock then and tug at himself a little, grunting. Nicolò knows that grunt and his eyes fly open, going straight to Yusuf’s fingers wrapped around his cock, and he makes a heartbreakingly mournful little sound.

“What is it, my treasure, what do you need?” Yusuf asks, cupping his cheek with his free hand. Nicolò nuzzles into it and says,

“I don’t know, I want –” he trails off and his gaze, a little unfocussed, goes to Yusuf’s cock again and then back to his face. “Let me?”

“ _Nicolò_ ,” Yusuf breathes, and bends to kiss him again, briefly, and then shuffles up, arranging himself carefully so he can hunch over Nicolò’s face and bring his groin within reach of Nicolò’s mouth. Nicolò presses a few light kisses to the base of Yusuf’s cock and then sneaks his tongue out to lick the tender skin of Yusuf’s balls and Yusuf curses, clutching at the headboard to steady himself. This was, he is pretty sure, supposed to be about Yusuf making Nicolò lose his mind with pleasure, but he can hardly complain that Nicolò has decided he wants to do _this_ while Yusuf has him tied to the bed.

Nicolò mouths at Yusuf’s balls and the lower part of his shaft until Yusuf has lost awareness of everything but the tension in his thighs from keeping this position and the sheer delight of Nicolò’s lips and tongue on him, and then Nicolò stops. And Yusuf draws a shuddering breath and blinks his eyes open, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing before this interlude, and sees – Nicolò, peering up at him, smiling with his big beautiful eyes because his mouth is wide open in clear invitation.

Yusuf stares at him, entirely too turned on and utterly in love to function. The corner of Nicolò’s mouth twitches just a little, and he lifts an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with equal parts amusement and affection. Yusuf swears in three languages and then takes hold of his cock, squeezing sharply at the base to keep himself from going off instantly, and feeds it into Nicolò’s waiting mouth, and they groan in unison, the sound vibrating through Yusuf’s body as though they were a single instrument.

All it takes is a few small bobs of Nicolò’s head and the curl of his tongue against the tip of Yusuf’s cock for Yusuf to spill down his throat with an incoherent cry. He only just manages to flop down at Nicolò’s side, head landing near his hip, instead of collapsing on top of him. When he recovers enough to look up, he finds Nicolò with his head throw back against the pillow, eyes closed, lips a little swollen again, face slack in satisfaction, though his own cock is still hard and dripping against his stomach. Hard and dripping and, conveniently, now very close to Yusuf’s mouth. Yusuf rolls over and swallows it down, twisting his hand around the shaft and sucking firmly at the head in the way he knows Nicolò likes until Nicolò comes with a sigh of immense contentment.

Yusuf crawls up to untie his hands, and Nicolò blinks lazily at him, looking every bit as blissed out as Yusuf could have hoped.

“Good?” Yusuf asks, rubbing his fingers gently over Nicolò’s wrists. Nicolò hums agreement and reaches out to sink his fingers into Yusuf’s hair, tugging him in to kiss.

“Yes,” Nicolò murmurs after, when he has his arms wrapped firmly around Yusuf’s waist and his face buried against Yusuf’s neck. “We should do that again. The other way, too, if you like.”

Yusuf thinks of it, his own hands tied, Nicolò leaning over him, and shivers with pleasant anticipation.

“Absolutely,” Yusuf agrees, and spares a moment to be grateful for that old Alexandrian inn’s transformation before he dozes off with his arms and his heart equally full of Nicolò.


End file.
